Other Twisted Tales
by NickeltheRed
Summary: A counterpart to my story Twisted: In which Belle is a beastly beauty, Ariel is a siren, Alice becomes the Queen of Diamonds, Shang regrets leaving Mulan in the snow, Snow White was hunted down for a reason, and so on. A chapter collection which gives the Disney films a darker "Grimm" twist.
1. The Beastly Beauty

**Inspired by my other story _Twisted, _a darker take on Disney's_ Peter Pan_. I obviously own nothing in the Disney Franchise.**

* * *

><p>-.-.-.-<p>

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_

_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_

_._

_My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in_

_You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl_

_ My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in_

_ You are the moon that breaks the night... _

_._

—Howl

by Florence + The Machine

-.-.-.-

Ever since Belle was small, she was a very beautiful girl. With her thick auburn locks and a pair of gentle green eyes, she was so beautiful that everybody else in town thought she just had to be _different_. Strange. Some of the other woman often gossiped about her and wondered if Belle was human at all. In fact, Belle had grown _so_ beautiful throughout the following years that even her father secretly held a little fear towards her. His heart grew weak under the pressure of being in her graceful presence, feeling unworthy. Whenever he glanced into the mirror at his own round aging face—he privately marveled at how someone like _her_ could have come from _him_ and his late wife, who also had been loving in spirit, but honestly not the most attractive woman on the outside either. By Belle's seventeenth winter, he even started to wonder if was actually Belle's startling beauty that killed his wife on her delivery bed. Perhaps the sight of the babe had ben too much for her heart.

But, finally came the fated day when Belle had been forced to make decision in front of a Beast who had taken her poor old father captive...and by sunset, _she_ had become his eternal prisoner as her father rushed out of the Enchanted Castle to the safety of their greasy little cottage, forever too paranoid to utter a word about it again. He never dared to ask anyone in the village for help to rescue his daughter in turn.

However betrayed Belle felt in the first few months, she still happened to bond with the Beast later on. There was not exactly any other option. He was the master and apparently was just as lonely.

And he was effected by her blooming affection.

Belle could see this, too. He began to _change. _Week by week, her hideous Beast slowly faded back into the handsome man called Prince Adam, whose face appeared in the tattered portraits mounted on various walls of the Castle. She once dreamed of marrying a man looking like this as a child, while gazing at couples in love from the book shop's widow.

Although in truth, the Beast eventually came to a point where he teetered between his humanity and the Curse yet, never quite moving forward anymore or sinking back into the old ways either. He certainty looked like himself again, but remarkably enough, the Beast lived on _inside_ of him. His condition somewhat reminded him of the rumors of Loupgarou, those mystical wolves who masked themselves by walking around in mortal skin for a time until the moon's power made them shift back to animal form.

Two full years in isolation put a certain pressure on Belle's mind too evidently, and on her soul. Her perception on things gradually began to sway. Her level of etiquette and ladylike perfection began to dim little by little. After all, who did she need to impress besides him? Within her imprisonment, she seemed to find a peculiar type of freedom. Pretty soon Belle wasn't caring enough to file her nails every night; instead she allowed them to grow sharp into delicate claws and her gaze grew a bit more savage than before. On occasion, she even associated noises with her emotions in place of words: a snarl for rage, a soft purr for pleasure, a flash of her gnashing teeth when she felt threatened.

She chose to wear skirts that were tearing at the hem upwards in odd angles, and then she preferred to have her hair to flow down freely, growing in a mane of wild curls. She stalked the halls from dawn till dusk like barefoot, like a ghost who proudly drowned in her secrets. Like a she-wolf in disguise.

Adam worried for his companion's sanity afterwards, for the magic of cast upon the Castle appeared to be contagious in a way he didn't know it could be—but then again—he realized one day that Belle was simply becoming the _same_ as he.

Thus together, he and Belle dwelled side by side contently for the rest of their lives, overlooked and unbothered by outsiders. And they reveled in their double-natures, loving and mating with each other with a monstrous passion with clawed hands, fanged kisses, and with their hearts made of gold all alike.

Love was love. It's something that was a blessed Curse and it came in many forms.

For clearly, they both were beautiful as they were beastly.


	2. An Ocean in Motion

-.-.-.-

_She's a needer_

_A whirlwind_

_ and not so logical_

_ But she's an ocean in motion_

_ and magical... _

_._

—The Girl I Left Behind

by Charlotte

-.-.-.-

When merfolk fell in love, they tended to love fiercely. They loved spontaneously, restlessly and ruthlessly as the winds in the eye of the storm.

Their tides of emotion were as moving and spirited as the sea itself.

And when King Triton's youngest daughter first laid eyes on Prince Eric, both handsome and musical, she wanted him immediately.

She'd always carried a fascination for the mortal kind, for their inventions, and the more she watched him from her secret place on the ship's ladder, the more she was overwhelmed by her own curiosity and desires.

She let something akin to a giddy chuckle rise from her chest and the sound was short, soft, but it was striking.

The sea shantie the men were bellowing out faded off when lightning struck the sky above their sails. They began to whisper headily amongst themselves in concern.

Ariel happened to catch her father's name being mentioned and she couldn't help but to laugh again at the frightened silly creatures huddled before her.

Another flash of lightning responded to her growing excitement.

And while his followers sprinted about, preparing the ship to brace the coming rain, Eric's eyes fell to the rolling waters below. "Oi, did anyone hear that?"

The elderly creature with long grey hair gave the Prince a quizzical look, "Hear what, Prince?"

Ariel shrieked with delight, causing the waves to rise and clash against the railing.

Eric turned around in surprise, straining his ears. "That!"

He knew they were not alone.

The old man clapped his hand over Eric's shoulder. "Forgive my old ears, Prince, but I can hardly hear anything else over that bloody thunder!"

"It sounded like _laughter_, a woman laughing."

But before they could speak again, the ship rocked them off their feet entirely.

Their nightly lanterns swayed of their hooks and shattered upon the deck as barrels of oil and liquor rolled together, colliding, crashing open, and soon fire erupted up into consuming blast!

Flames spread in all directions, winding around the ship like deadly serpents. Shocked, the sailor started to yell, giving orders to the next, and those who survived the aftermath leapt for whatever safety the sea had to offer them. Feeling that dreadful heat lapping at his own skin, Eric realized right away that the ship—the very ship his father, the late king had built in his honor—was far beyond repair now. That is was doomed to sink into the depths of this roaring sea, to a place utterly unknown.

He went to balance all his weight on the one cracked railing still standing upright, hands clasped tightly around a rope hanging alongside him. He could make out a small choir of worried voices that were calling for him somewhere not too far off. The thunder continued to pound in the sky, which not honestly helping Eric to calm his nerves. Though he summoned all the faith he could find, reading to take his only chance to jump from the deck.

The laughing returned and it distracted Eric once again. He lost concentration, his footing, and his more of his confidence in getting out the wreck alive. With his boots slipping from underneath him, he tumbled right down into the undercurrent, which tossed him around like a ragdoll.

On _one_ good note, Eric had the techniques to swim decently and force his way to the surface again. Behind eyes reddening from the salt and beyond the streams of smoke, he thought he could see the shape of a lifeboat waiting for him yet. And even if his throat was growing course, he still tried to yell something. "Over here!"

_"Row, men! I 'eard the Prince! That way!"_

Although he succeeded in gaining some attention, this merely reminded Eric of _it_.

Something else was still slashing nearby...there had to be. Eric could sense it was aware of him too. Wading in circles, he was actually catching glimpses of movement, a flash of red and green.

"Hello," he said, despite that his mind was warning him to _just keep quiet._

The mysterious dark form under the distant water finally decided to approach him directly, and it stopped only a foot away this time. Eric swallowed.

In the light of fire, he noticed the crown of _her_ head first, hair red as blood, slowly rising above the surface. Then bright blue eyes followed by a fine nose and a flawless chin.

Her physical splendor rivaled the statues of the feminine angles that guarded his palace gates, regardless of fact that she obviously wasn't dressed as modestly as they were. She did not seem to care that her chest was only protected by seashells strapped together with a strange silver wiring. The oddest part of her was probably the live crab perched on her pale wet shoulder, much like a bird would.

"...It was you along?" Eric asked her softly, trying not to scare her off. "What were you doing out here?"

The maiden merely stared back at him, equally mesmerized. Then, she spoke. But the language spilling from her full rosy lips was unlike any language he'd ever learned. It sounded ancient and strange, like a cross between a dialect from the Orient and Old Greek.

"Oh. You must not understand me," he pondered.

She hadn't responded with words this time...no, this time she suddenly used _lyrics_.

The very lyrics that his men had just been celebrating to.

_"What do you do with drunken sailor...what do you with a drunken sailor...what do you with a drunken sailor...so ear-lye in the moooorn-ing..."_

Her voice left him stunned. Eric had no idea a voice like could exist. Beautiful was even too weak of a word to describe it. It _was...perfection_.

Eric surrendered to her presence entirely. For a moment, he nearly had forgotten where he was, floating in the middle of the sea—with his ship on fire.

He shook his head to clear it of the growing temptation. "...Who are you?"

She chuckled sweetly, showing off her rows of little pointed teeth. Eric shuddered. She turned her cheek to him slightly, conversing with the crab in her mother tongue and the little creature clicked its claws in agreement before plopping off into the water, sinking below them.

That was certainly something one wouldn't see every day.

Then the maiden eyed him deeply once more while the waves shifted in circles around them, carrying her closer until she was but a inch away.

Her cold _webbed_ hands cradled his neck and without any further warning, Eric was pulled into her ravenous kiss.

When they touched, their chests and torsos coming together, with his fingers gripping her tightly in return on pure instinct, added bolts of lightning clashed with the surrounding sea.

Her kiss took his breath away. Quite literally. Soon enough, Eric was feeling a sharp pinch in the base of his throat and he parted his mouth for air. But the air now was not helping him anymore, it was only making the throbbing feel worse.

Under the surface they went.

She coaxed him to stay against her as they swam deeper within the currents.

Though the water now was also feeling different to his skin, becoming soft and cool, and it was as his body could resist the absorption.

_Is this what drowning really feels like?_ Eric thought vaguely, fighting off the confusion the best he could.

And just as everything started to go very black, a powerful masculine voice filled his ears, a voice one would expect a mighty god to have.

_"Welcome home, young prince, to Atlantica."_

* * *

><p><strong>King Triton had difficulty accepting Eric as a mortal, but what if Ariel encouraged the transformation to be reversed?<strong>

****Slightly inspired by the closing scene with Philip in _Pirates 4._****


	3. Lips Red as Blood

-.-.-.-

_She'll suck you dry_

___Pray!___

___'Cause no one ever survives ___

___She'll eat you alive___

.

—Rev 22:20

by Puscifer  
>-.-.-.-<p>

Those who heard of Snow White inevitably pitied her.

But over the decades, the story had been twisted up into a web of harsh misconceptions:

This was probably due to the fact that Snow White had indeed been a beautiful princess and her stepmother, the Fair Queen had meant to make her a personal target.

No one ever believed the Fair Queen held any good intentions. Really, what type of motherly figure would plot against the princess in that manner, wanting to pierce Snow White through the _heart_?

Thus, poor Snow White became the ideal damsel after her disappearance, and afterwards, her memory became legend and her legend was what shaped into her a helpless victim.

Although the Fair Queen had taken the truth to her grave. Fate knew the true motives behind her actions. Yes, she _had_ tried to slay the beautiful princess, though it was done so to _save_ the visiting prince who was easily seduced by Snow Whites striking feminine charms.

For early one morning at dawn, when she had slipped into showed Snow White's chamber to confront her herself one last time, she had shown the princess the Mirror.

And there had been no reflection to be seen.

There had been _reasons_ as why Snow White had flesh pale as moonlight, hair as black as the night, and lips always tinted red as _blood_.

Snow White was of the undead and her hidden fangs were sharp and wicked.


	4. The Dragon's Soul

_-.-.-.-_

_Thousand armies couldn't keep me out_

_See I've come to burn your kingdom down_  
><em>And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out<em>  
><em>I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out<em>

_They keep me out_  
><em>'Til I tear the walls<em>  
><em>'Til I save your heart<em>  
><em>And to take your soul<em>  
><em>For what has been done<em>  
><em>Cannot be undone<em>

_._

—Seven Devils

by Florence + The Machine

-.-.-.-

After the Hun invasion of the Emperor's Realm, it wasn't long before whispers of strange happenings upon the mountaintops had begun to stir. A new force had risen to resist their rule. The Army of Shan Yu had climbed the mountainside and fought ruthlessly against the mysterious threat, but even together, the Huns disappeared from the battle field like phantoms, and the news of them gradually diminishing spread faster than the first rumor. Shan Yu roped in all of the other self-assured allies that he could, but those soldiers did not return either.

The rest of the Realm barely had any time to rejoice over this when the true turn-of-power truly began.

And eventually, only the Shan Yu Imperial Court remained and opposing warriors from the North and the West were coming to gather outside of the palace walls to end him completely. Apparently they _had_ seen the so-said fearsome leader of this rising force and they all planned to kneel before the leader in unconditional loyalty.

...Then one morning there _she_ was, sitting upon _his_ throne, surrounded by her guards while his remaining guards were nowhere to be found. However the sight of blood on their swords suggested ideas.

How they even passed the gates and slaughtered them while he was sleeping, was beyond him.

Shan Yu had recognized that face immediately though. _Her_ face. The one who created the snow flood, was a woman.

"You!" he growled at her in greeting, "The soldier from the mountains. A woman disguised in armor?"

It made his blood boil and a dark mass of public humiliation settled in the pit of his stomach. And Shan Yu would never forget her face now, for it was the face that caused his downfall _twice_. He lost his chances to win everything to her twice!

These schemes of hers infuriated him, and secretly, impressed him at the same time.

But even so, he wasn't about to surrender his throne without one last match. He had unsheathed his weapon, preparing for impact. "I think we have some unfinished business to manage."

"I understand you are the best of the Huns, Shan Yu, but to attack me again is pointless." she told him, voice cool and calm. She didn't appear the least bit fazed by his actions. "Everyone in my army know this. You cannot win this fight."

"Tell me," he remarked, with more open curiosity. "How did you get this far on your course of gaining power and vengeance, Woman from the Mountains?"

"I had Mushu," she clarified, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of her freshly-painted lips. "And I'm no longer Fa Ping, the soldier. My current followers call me The Dragon's Soul."

On her cue, he watched in awe as a little serpent-like creature had suddenly slithered its way out of the her sleeve and gradually began to coil the base of the throne near her feet.

As it circled around her, it _grew_. Its slender body continued to thicken, its snout widened, and the claws lengthened.

And once the dragon was finished with his transformation, Shan Yu was faced with one of the majestic beasts he'd seen many times painted on the buildings of China.

The dragon towered over them in all its glory, gleaming red scales lined with blue with a golden mane running down the back of its neck.

Even her own assembly of guards inched away, not wanting to push their luck as the beast wrapped its tail possessively back around her and the throne.

The dragon's eyes glowed solid white as they refocused on him. It snarled loudly then, before opening it jaws wide to reveal the fiery chasm deeper within its throat as some kind of warning sign.

The sound shook inside Shan Yu's chest, and he could actually feel the deadly heat of the dragon's breath crawling over his skin.

"Mushu was usually travel size for my convenience," the woman added, noticing the new levels of pure wonder and concern coating the warrior's face. "But then, the day after you cut me with that sword of yours, he deemed me worthy enough to see his _true_ form, and from there we've become two halves of one whole. He only obeys my orders, and trust me when I tell you...he does _not_ take kindly to those who threaten me."

It all had made sense to him then...why soldiers never returned from the mountains, the reports of unexplainable sightings.

The dragon was her main defense and her device to manipulate others into following her.

Shan Yu saw what a terrific strategy that was. Because, really, who would ever deny a live dragon? Who would have the gall to deny a leader who has a celestial being like that supporting them?

No one stood a single chance against her wrath.

So in that instant, Shan Yu had expected to be scorched to death, he expected to be captured and executed. The last thing he had expected from her though, was a _choice:_ to die, or join her ranks.

He stared up into those sharp glowing white eyes once more, and then, he pledged his allegiance to her—to the new Empress Mulan the Dragon's Soul—ultimately forgetting about keeping the throne for himself.

* * *

><p>Her superiority flourished, and Mulan observed her occasional enemies fade away into history.<p>

Meanwhile her Empire kept expending across Warring Asia. Poverty lessened and plantations thrived, and the trading routes began to stretch farther into their neighboring lands. Even foreign kings were sending her gifts on a monthly basis. Her melting-pot of soldiers loved her for all she had accomplished; always treated her like she was born to do this.

She went on to freeing the slaves previously captured during Shan Yu's rule and she gave them similar offers: to join her ranks, or leave the palace walls and see if they were able to survive on the streets.

They all bowed to her of course in the end. They actually respected her. Everyone was becoming more and more fascinated that a woman could be this clever in politics and warfare. Above all else however, no one was willing to suffer the valor of her dragonfire.

Mulan held her chin up in modest pride as she stalked through the palace, Shan Yu following her like a faithful shadow. She wore feminine layers of silk most days, but she still carried a dagger at her waist and owned private sets of armor placed away in her chambers. Her Imperial Flags were dyed black, trimmed with gold and blue and sewed onto every one of them, was a red outline of the dragon Mushu breathing fire.

Then Mulan finally decided to liberate the troops who had left her alone in the snow, wounded and caked in dry blood from the Imperial gudgeons.

When they were escorted into the throne room by the guards, she noted how her old cohorts even smaller in number since they had been ambushed by the Huns at the Emperor's city carnival two years ago, which was ironically held, to honor them.

In fact, her troops were hardly a troop any longer—now standing as a meek and dirty cluster of twenty-two men total.

And based on the shock written across their faces, they all were able to recognize her straightaway. True, they'd _overheard_ the other prisoners talk of a relentless Warrior Empress claiming the throne as her own, burning rival armies to the ground, and had allowed Shan Yu to live to become her First General, but they didn't _realize_ their old friend Ping—Fa Mulan, the deceiver—survived the snowfall in the mountains and became that Empress...

Naturally Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po were he first ones to speak with relief ringing in their voices, asking how she coped after they were forced to leave her stranded on the mountain. She remembered how the quirky little trio were the only soldiers that night who actually tried running up to her in the snow once Shang turned his back her. And for that, they received a relatively thankful smile. "I had dragonfire on my side," she answered.

That's also when little Mushu appeared to them, unwinding himself from the folds of silk upon her lap, slipping to the floor so he could transform once more.

So afterwards, there they were, more surprised by her secrets than ever before, caught between by her massive dragon and the Imperial guards, with Shan Yu standing watch at the side doors too.

General Shang, planted in front of the men as if he was still in charge of them however, seemed the most astounded. His face was stern as it was in the past and his jaw was set in cold defiance seeing Shan Yu in person again, but Mulan saw the regret and the bewilderment dancing behind his eyes.

Ling, Yao, Chien-Po strolled past him without a second thought and fell to ground, promising her their devoted service.

The other defeated soldiers shortly followed suit, asking her and Mushu for forgiveness.

Among the row of bent backs, Shang was left standing upright, observing the men with newfound uncertainty.

Then he dared to look at her directly.

Her cunning stare was fairly bright and nimble, yet it still put a certain weight on his shoulders he couldn't quite name. "What say you, Li Shang? Do you wish to wear armor again?"

As a warrior and as his father's son, he had never feared death.

But if there's one thing Shang honestly never handled that well, it was regret. It was guilt...the kind of guilt one felt for sparing a woman's life simply to repay a debt, although still leaving her alone in the wilderness and then realizing it was all a mistake because some time later, he was entirely in _her_ mercy.

He had once underestimated Fa Ping, who managed to prove his first opinions wrong. Shang knew he should have learned that lesson by now. Mulan, this...woman, should be never be misjudged.

He had taught her the skills at camp, thinking she was a pathetic lad learning about war, but now her tactics had clearly exceeded his own. He was once a General. Now in he was rags, and she was sitting up on Imperial throne itself, she controlled Shan Yu, she raised the armies China currently had, and she was cherished by a _dragon_.

Never letting go of her eyes, Shang finally and slowly, bowed himself.


End file.
